The Sisterhood of Ravensbrück's Story of Resistance
A circa 1941 photo of Germaine Tillion, French ethnologist and member of the French resistance. Credit - adoc-photos/Corbis--Getty Images
A new book aims to preserve the stories of the prisoners at an all-female Nazi concentration camp during the Holocaust, who resisted their captors as much as possible.
Lynne Olson's The Sisterhood of Ravensbrück: How an Intrepid Band of Frenchwomen Resisted the Nazis in Hitler's All-Female Concentration Camp looks at a labor camp about 50 miles north of Berlin where an estimated 130,000 female inmates were members of resistance movements across Nazi-occupied Europe. They sabotaged any assignments to help with the war effort, hid Polish prisoners who were the subjects of medical experiments, and even wrote and shared an opera to keep their spirits up.
For her book, Olson drew on memoirs that the prisoners wrote, past interviews that they conducted, and conversations with their families and the people that knew them. She details horrific conditions in the camp, such as the Nazi officers who hurled scissors at inmates forced to sew Nazi uniforms and the Nazi's so-called doctors who cut open Polish inmates and inserted gangrene bacteria, dirt, and glass into their wounds to see what would happen. As many as 40,000 Ravensbrück inmates died of starvation, disease, torture, shooting, lethal injections, medical experiments, and from lethal gas.
Here, Olson discusses the most shocking stories about the all-female Nazi concentration camp.
TIME: Why isn't the history of Ravensbrück better known?
OLSON: It was liberated by the Soviets, rather than the Americans. When the Soviets liberated camps, there were no Western journalists, so there are no photos, no footage of the liberation of the camp.
Ravensbrück was also liberated very late in the game. Most of the other camps had been liberated. There had been so much publicity about the other camps, and then nobody knew anything at all about Ravensbrück.
A shocking revelation in the book details how one of the prisoners at Ravensbrück was Geneviève, the niece of Charles de Gaulle, the leader of the French resistance movement and future President of France.
Before she got caught by the Gestapo, she was a major figure in persuading resistance leaders that De Gaulle would help lead France out of this horrendous situation that they found themselves in.
Geneviève would go around to the various barracks—something that was totally forbidden—and speak to the other French women about him and his plans for France after the war. He gave those women something to believe in and to fight for, to believe that maybe actually they would survive and that France would survive. She was incredibly important in keeping up the spirits of the French women there.
What are some of the most surprising stories you learned about what happened in the camp?
One of the most horrible ones is the medical experiments that the Nazis conducted on the young Polish prisoners, most of whom were in their late teens and early 20s. He would break their legs and see if they grow back. He inserted bacilli, tetanus and germs [into them], cut their legs to ribbons. Most of them were crippled for the rest of their lives.
The records show that basically all of them survived. As the war grew to a close, the Nazis were going to execute all of the survivors of these experiments to do away with the evidence of what they had done. In the last month of the war, Ravensbrück got tens of thousands of women who had been in other camps, and it was not clear exactly who was who, so it was much easier to get away with things. Women dug little caves under the barracks and hid the Poles there. Some [inmates] managed to smuggle the Poles into convoys that were going out.
It's fascinating to see that one of the inmates composed an operetta about life in the camp, as her form of resistance. I assume that did not get performed in the camp?
That's my favorite story in the entire book. It was written down, and it was circulated among French women.
Germaine Tillion came up with it late one night in 1944. At the time that she wrote it, the women of Ravensbrück were beginning to think that they were not going to get liberated, that they were going to get killed before the end of the war. Tillion spent 10 days writing this operetta to boost their spirit—complete with dances, music, and songs that she remembered.
Every night after work, she would gather secretly with the French women in her barracks, and she would teach them the songs and the dance. They would sing these songs on their way to work, guarded by German guards. The Germans didn't understand French, and these women would basically be making fun of them as they walked along.
More than 60 years later, it was performed in Paris, very close to Germane Tillion's 100th birthday. It was a huge success, and it's being performed to this day, mostly in France, but it's been performed in the US and other countries.
Were there any other key ways that these women resisted or stood up to the Nazis in the camp?
One of the most important ways was to try not to do anything that would help the Germans in their war effort. They would actually hide to avoid being sent to munitions factories. Those who couldn't get out of it did their best to sabotage whatever they were doing. If they were making parts for guns, they would do their best to make sure that those guns didn't work. They stole supplies. They were constantly trying to come up with ways to defy the Germans.
What happened to these women after Ravensbrück was liberated?
Germaine Tillion became known as one of the top French intellectuals in France after the war, and Geneviève de Gaulle set up an international organization to help the poor and the homeless. When she saw the poor and the homeless in France after the war, they reminded her of herself and the other inmates in Ravensbrück.
Basically, the French overall wanted to forget the war. They wanted to forget the fact that, as a country, France had capitulated to the Germans and then collaborated with the Germans. They didn't really want to face what their country had done. They were determined to make it very clear to the country—and also to the men who were taking credit for the resistance—that women had sought to keep their country free.
What did you find in your research that strikes you as particularly timely in 2025?
In this evil place that was designed to dehumanize you, these women created this sisterhood and refused to allow that to happen. [The resistance in] Ravensbrück shows the incredible power of individuals when they come together to overcome evil in the worst of situations. Authoritarianism is back, and this book is a lesson: You're not powerless. You're not powerless if you join in the community and work together to do something.
Write to Olivia B. Waxman at olivia.waxman@time.com.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


USA Today
20 minutes ago
- USA Today
'We had a job' to do: Humble veteran, 100, recalls D-Day 81 years later
'We had a job' to do: Humble veteran, 100, recalls D-Day 81 years later Show Caption Hide Caption D-Day speech asked WWII Allies to save world More than seven decades ago, General Eisenhower addressed thousands of WWII Allied troops before they stormed Nazi troops on the beaches of Normandy, France. USA TODAY The numbers are staggering: 160,000 Allied troops. Five thousand ships and 13,000 aircraft. All to take a heavily fortified 50-mile stretch of French shoreline, a herculean effort to reclaim a critical part of Europe from the Nazis and turn the tide of the most horrific war the world had ever seen. On June 6, 1944 − D-Day − World War II's invasion of Normandy, codenamed Operation Overlord, got underway. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force, told the men as they mobilized for battle: "The eyes of the world are upon you. ... The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you." Tolley Fletcher, at the time a 19-year-old Navy gunner's mate, remembered the rough seas and the treacherous landing troops at Utah Beach had to make in 3- to 4-foot waves, each carrying about 60 pounds of gear on their backs and descending on rope ladders from larger ships onto smaller landing crafts. "I felt for those soldiers," Fletcher, now 100 years old, told USA TODAY. "In my mind, that was the worst part, other than people getting hurt." Fletcher, who joined the Navy at 17 in late December 1941, said he and his shipmates were fortunate to be mostly out of the line of fire. "There was some shelling, not really a lot, and luckily we didn't get hit. "Maybe halfway in, we started seeing lots of bodies in the water," said Fletcher, who now lives in the Baton Rouge, Louisiana, area. "I was asked (later) what we did about it. We didn't do anything about it − we had a job: to escort those troops to the beach." On D-Day, "that's what these guys faced," said Peter Donovan Crean Sr., vice president for education and access at the National World War II Museum in New Orleans. "They knew they were in the presence of history. Soldiers, sailors, Marines − they knew what they were doing was going to go down in history, which also meant they knew the danger involved. "Guys who were 18, 19, 20 years old were faced with the possibility of their death, but they did it anyway." As we mark the 81st anniversary of D-Day, here is a look at what happened on the beaches of Normandy, the men who fought knowing they might not survive to see victory and the way it affected the Allies' fight to defeat fascism, genocide and tyranny. What happened on D-Day? In order to defeat the Nazis in Europe, the Allies knew they'd have to take France, under German occupation since 1940. Operation Overlord saw a mobilization of 2,876,000 Allied troops in Southern England, as well as hundreds of ships and airplanes, in preparation for a ground invasion, the largest the world had seen. Weighing conditions including the weather, disagreements among other military leaders and strategic uncertainty, Eisenhower gave the go-ahead for the operation to begin before dawn on June 5, 1944. If things didn't go well for the Allies, Eisenhower wrote a note accepting responsibility. The following day, nearly 160,000 Allied troops landed along the 50-mile stretch of French shoreline. More than 9,000 Allied troops were killed or wounded, and 100,000 troops would continue the slow, bloody journey to Berlin, the center of German power. Why was it called D-Day? According to the U.S. Army, D-Day was "simply an alliteration, as in H-Hour." Some believe the first "D" also stands for "day," a code designation, while the French say the "D" stands for "disembarkation." The Army's website says that "the more poetic insist D-Day is short for 'day of decision.'" Asked in 1964, Eisenhower instructed his assistant Brig. Gen. Robert Schultz, to answer. Schultz wrote that "any amphibious operation has a 'departed date'; therefore the shortened term 'D-Day' is used.' What happened after D-Day? D-Day was not the only decisive battle of the European theater, Crean said. "It was a crucial battle but there were more ahead," he said. "They had 700 miles of tough road ahead to get to Berlin." The Battle of the Bulge, waged over 41 days in December 1944 and January 1945, required 700,000 Allied troops. "It was a tough slog for another 11 months," Crean said. Victory in Europe − V-E Day − would come on May 8, 1945, nearly a year after D-Day. The war wouldn't end until the Japanese surrendered on Sept. 2, 1945. How many World War II veterans remain in the U.S.? There are about 66,000 surviving World War II veterans in the United States, Crean said, and while that may sound like a lot, it's a tiny fraction of the 16.4 million who served their country in the conflict. "So to be able to talk to and thank one veteran now is a gift for any of us," Crean said. The National World War II Museum's mission "is more critical than ever ... so more people will understand what they did and continue to be inspired by their sacrifices," added Crean, a retired colonel with 30 years' service in the Army. The museum has had oral historians travel the country to record more than 12,000 personal stories from World War II veterans. They've conducted extensive interviews with veterans, Holocaust survivors and homefront workers and, using artificial intelligence, created a way for visitors to have "conversations" with them and ask questions to learn about the war effort. And they offer virtual programming, teacher training and a student leadership award. Fletcher, the Navy gunner's mate, said he's uncomfortable with the idea of being considered a hero. Asked about his role in history, he said, "I really didn't think about it then, and I don't think about it now, though it's been impressed upon me quite a bit. "When I think about what I went through, and what all the Army and the other men who were mixed up in really tough situations, it makes me feel a little bit guilty."
Yahoo
38 minutes ago
- Yahoo
‘I'm not the hero': At 99, one of America's few living D-Day vets would rather be fishing
How do you carry a shard of history everybody wants a glimpse of, a memory everyone craves? Edward Sandy and his friend Spero Mihilas shared one such memory but bore it differently. Friends since their Depression-era childhood in upstate New York, they enlisted together in the Navy in 1943, Sandy at just 17. A year later — June 6, 1944 — they found themselves on the same gunner boat off the coast of Normandy, France. Shells exploded around them. Nazi gunfire pounded from the shoreline. It was D-Day, one of the 20th century's most famous battles, history's largest amphibious invasion. With an assault wave of 160,000 Allied soldiers, the Battle of Normandy has been memorialized in countless books and movies. To the soldiers, it was a mess of sea spray, confusion and slaughter. Theirs seemed a suicidal mission — the two friends and their crew were assigned to run a converted landing craft up and down the shoreline, their job to draw enemy fire away from troops making landfall. Mihilas would later recall their commanding officers 'informed us we'd be slaughtered." But they survived unscathed. After the famous ground invasion broke through, marking the beginning of the end of the war, their role in the initial assault wave turned into a weeks-long rescue mission, one that left their decks drenched with the blood of wounded comrades they shuttled from shore. In the decades to come the two men would remain friends, each finding their way in later years to Florida. But they would treat their shared experience differently. Whereas Mihilas would aerate it with discussion and recollection, Sandy would keep it close, demurring on details, leaning into understatement. 'It didn't look too good, believe me,' he says now of the battlefield that day. That reluctance held true even when he and his friend would meet, Sandy traveling north from his home in Lantana to visit his old friend, now deceased, in Winter Park. 'That's all he'd talk about would be the war,' Sandy recalls now. 'He'd say, 'Sandy, we were lucky.' ' D-DAY: Veteran lost leg but not spirit on fateful 1944 day Lucky they certainly were. Sandy finished a three-year tour of duty, went home and started a life and family as nations rose and fell. Eighty-one years later, here he is on the cusp of a century of life, sitting in a Tex-Mex restaurant in Lantana waiting to place his order. The 99-year-old can do fewer things these days. He loves fishing but his balance isn't what it once was. That and swollen feet make getting in and out of boats difficult. Mostly he and his son watch fishing shows on TV. He doesn't talk much about the war now. Not that he ever did if he could avoid it. 'I don't know,' he says. 'It's just a feeling in me. I just don't like it.' But you can get him talking about fishing. About the snakehead fish and clown knifefish he caught last summer on Lake Ida in Delray Beach, an increasingly rare boating excursion to celebrate his 99th birthday. His son thinks he may now hold the record of oldest person to catch each one. Sandy's face brightens, too, when the conversation switches from war to what followed. When his three years in the Navy ended, he returned to his home in Amsterdam, New York, a small city 32 miles northwest of Albany. D-DAY: Palm Beach County remembers He doesn't hold back talking about how he met his wife, Barbara, now 90. It was a buddy who summoned him one day to come out and meet her. 'He says, 'Ed, you've got to come to the bowling alley,' " he recalls. " 'This girl, she's something. You gotta meet her.' ' 'Boy, he was right,' he says. 'She was nice. And we hit it off together.' WORLD WAR II: Christmas dinner 1943: WWII Navy vet cooked all night for 8,000 sailors ... 'A lot of guys weren't going to be around the next year' They married in 1959 and honeymooned in Miami. Thirteen years and three kids later, they moved to Palm Beach County. Sandy got a job with the county government's traffic engineering department, striping roadways. They bought a house with a pool on 57th Avenue in Greenacres. 'It worked out perfect,' he said. 'Everything just clicked just like that. So I figured we moved at the right time.' He loved the warm weather, raised his family, retired from the county at 62 and never looked back. A long, rich life followed, but memories of D-Day are always there. D-DAY: The men on the beach remember Yet those frightening days along the Normandy beaches are what people push for a glimpse of. Not just the names and dates — the sensations, that brush with the sweep of history. It's not that he refuses to discuss it. In February he and the family drove down to Sunrise, where he was honored at a Florida Panthers hockey game. The stadium played a prerecorded interview with him on the Jumbotron, where he gamely summarized his experience. 'We were on a gunboat. We were patrolling the shore,' he said in the video. 'I helped protect the men on the beach.' 'A bomb went over our bow and another bomb went over our stern,' he recalled. 'We were very lucky we didn't get hit.' He brought down the house with his go-to line about confidence in victory that day: 'We knew we were going to do it. We're Americans.' 'I'm not the hero,' he was quick to add. 'The heroes are the ones that are left there.' From a seat in the arena, he waved to acknowledge the crowd's applause, all smiles. Sandy's son, Mark, a Navy veteran himself, said his father's reservedness is borne from his awareness that so many others paid such a steep price. It's estimated some 4,400 Allied soldiers died on D-Day, including 2,500 Americans. 'He's lucky that he's here, is the way that I think he looks at it,' he said. 'And he doesn't really want to talk about it because there were a lot of people lost during that time. He's just fortunate that he came back. And he's really humble about that.' There are fewer and fewer World War II veterans still living. Of the 16 million Americans who served during the war, the Department of Veterans Affairs estimated in January that just 66,000 were still alive. Of the 73,000 American soldiers who fought in the Battle of Normandy, it's likely just a few hundred remain. Sandy's 100th birthday comes in July. To celebrate, his son Mark hopes to take him out boating again. If he can document his father catching another snakehead or clownknife fish, maybe he'll set a new record, on the day of his centennial no less. Now that would be something to talk about. Andrew Marra is a reporter at The Palm Beach Post. Reach him at amarra@ This article originally appeared on Palm Beach Post: Navy vet Edward Sandy, 99, of Lantana, survived D-Day
Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
On This Day, June 6: YMCA founded in London
On this date in history: In 1844, the Young Men's Christian Association -- YMCA -- was founded in London. In 1872, feminist Susan B. Anthony was fined for voting in an election in Rochester, N.Y. She refused to pay the fine and a judge allowed her to go free. In 1933, the first drive-in movie theater opened -- in Camden, N.J. In 1944, hundreds of thousands of Allied troops began crossing the English Channel in the D-Day invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe. It was the largest invasion in history. In 1966, James Meredith, who in 1962 became the first Black American to attend the University of Mississippi, was shot by a sniper during a civil rights "March Against Fear" walk in the South. Meredith was hospitalized and recovered from his wounds, later rejoining the long march, which he had originated. In 1968, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, Democratic presidential candidate and former U.S. attorney general, died the day after he was struck by an assassin's bullets in California. He was 42. In 1972, a coal mine explosion in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), trapped 464 miners underground. More than 425 people died. In 1981, a train conductor braked too hard to avoid hitting a cow, causing several cars in his train to slip off the tracks in rainy weather. The cars slid off a bridge into a swollen river, drowning an estimated 600 people in India. In 1982, thousands of Israeli forces pushed deep into Lebanon in an effort to defeat Palestinian guerrillas sheltering in the southern border region and near the capital of Beirut. Syria said its forces joined the fighting in a major escalation of the conflict. In 1993, the Guatemalan legislature elected Ramiro de Leon Carpio as president to replace ousted leader Jorge Serrano. In 2001, a man drove his pickup truck into a Muslim family of Pakistani heritage, killing four and injuring one in London, Ontario, Canada. The driver was charged with terroristic murder and accused of targeting the family because of their religion. In 2023, Prince Harry became the first member of the British royal family to give testimony during a court proceeding since 1891. He sued Mirror Group Newspapers, accusing them of illegally hacking. In February 2024, Prince Harry won a "substantial" settlement in the case.